Leather
by I.M. Elizabeth
Summary: Mello's lover learns exactly why he's never included her in mafia business, especially when he intends to use her as a bargaining chip.   Mello/OC


It was first time Mello had agreed to take her to his mafia hideout and Layla couldn't help but be a little bit excited at the prospect. This is a side of Mello she had never seen, and she was very curious to see why he was so feared. Sure, Mello had a bit of temper, but he was essentially in her eyes as gentle as a bunny.

Mello had come to her earlier in the day, asking for her help convincing the Mafia to give him more funding. Layla had suspected it was hard for him to ask for her help as his eyes kept darting around, never able to look her fully in the eyes.

She sauntered over to him, standing up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and place an assortment of kisses all over his chin.

"Whatever you need Mello." she purred.

Now, they drove past the winding roads of Los Angeles and way out into the desert. She turned her gaze to Mello who stared straight ahead, his sunglasses blocking her view of his face. One hand rested languidly on the steering wheel, the other, resting on the inside of her thigh.

"Mello," she said timidly, "What exactly am I going to be doing?"

She watched Mello swallow, his adam's apple bobbing underneath his skin. "Well," he said after a moment, "You're a woman. I think if they see you, they'll be more open to accepting my proposition."

"Okay." she said slowly, leaning back onto the leather seat of Mello's car. For some reason, this didn't feel right all of a sudden, and she felt the slightest twinge of fear at Mello's words.

Another hour went by, Mello saying nothing, the pile of chocolate wrappers in his lap getting larger.

Suddenly, the car stopped, and Layla looked around. They were truly in the middle of nowhere, not even on the road anymore. The desert spilled out all around them.

"Come on." Mello said, opening the car door and standing, little balls of chocolate foil wrappings falling at his feet.

Layla followed him, her heart pounding wildly now.

They walked for what seemed like hours until Mello stopped at a large steel door that was literally imbedded in the ground.

Then, he turned to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Layla, listen to me," he said, "No matter what happens, do not fight and do not question anything I say. Do you understand?

She nodded, unable to stop her hands from shaking.

Almost like magic, the door opened, revealing a set of stairs that seemed to descend into darkness. Layla followed him down into the door, her hand on the small of his back.

After a few more minutes of walking Mello and Layla stepped into a well lit room, several couches everywhere. There are televisions all over the walls, wires connecting them along with a fully stocked bar and refrigerator. It looks almost to be stocked for a war.

There are several men sitting on the the couches and Layla felt their eyes passing over her taking in the shape of her hips in her leather pants. She felt their eyes lingering on the curve of her breasts through her tank top and she moved closer to Mello as he took the seat in a big leather armchair at the head of the room.

"Well Mello," a man said, his body more muscular than anyone she has ever seen. "You weren't kidding, she's a looker."

Layla smirked slightly, loving the idea that Mello has bragged about her. It filled her with a deep sense of pride and she perched on the edge of the armchair.

"She's cute enough," another man says, his long dreadlocks pulled back in a ponytail.

Mello snorted, "Enough? Think you can get better Dawson?"

The man known as Dawson shrugged, "Not saying she's bad Mello, but not what we were expecting. If you give us this broad, why should we give you the funding."

Layla's eyes flickered towards Mello now. What on earth was he talking about? Give us the broad? Surely he didn't bring her here to bargain using her body?

"Listen gentlemen," Mello said silkily, "The mafia needs me. Don't deny it. I managed to bring you the head of a man who betrayed you four years ago. I am not weaker than I was then. I won't hesitate to kill again to get what we need. But, in order for me to carry out these deeds against Kira I need more funding. I need more."

The heavily muscled man shook his head, "I'm not sure Mello. We asked for a woman, and good woman aren't as willing to fool around with us after Rod's death. You frighten them Mello. You're ruthless."

"I got you a woman didn't I Avery?" Mello snapped, reaching out a gloved hand to tilt Layla's chin upward. "This bitch'll do anything I say."

Layla's eyes turned sharply up at Mello, where he smirked lazily, shaking her head back and forth like she was a doll.

"She's gorgeous. Got a nice set of tits and an even nicer ass. She's gorgeous. And you'll fucking take her if you're not a fool."

The group of men laughed nastily and Layla suddenly wanted to leave, hide. Be anywhere but with this Mello she doesn't know or recognize.

Wordlessly, Mello pushed her roughly onto Avery, her body rejecting every fiber of this man's being.

Avery smirked at her, and pulled back her hair roughly so that he could lick and caress her neck.

She was repulsed and her eyes sought Mello, who was watching this spectacle with a bored expression on his face as he bit into a bar of chocolate.

Avery pushed his body against hers and she cried out in pain when he bit harshly into her shoulder.

The men around her laughed and she heard one say "You know she loves that."

He began to slip her tank top off and she began to struggle pushing his hands away from her, hating how they prodded at her like a farmer does with his cattle.

"Layla!" Mello barked, his voice mean and cruel.

She stopped struggling instantly and the men laughed more, Dawson practically doubled over in laughter, "Man Mello, you got this bitch trained. You weren't kidding when you said she obeyed you like a dog."

His words blurred her vision with tears at the thought that Mello has advertised her to these men as his pet. Like she means so little then what they share away from this place.

Avery yanked her tank top down, exposing her bra to the rest of the men. She stared up at Mello, begging and pleading with her eyes. He didn't seem to notice her, staring off into space with a vacant expression.

But, then when Avery began to touch her legs she started to fight again, pushing his hand away roughly when he touched her in the same way Mello touched her when they had sex on occasion.

"Stop it," she snarled, pushing him off of her as he began to try and unbutton her pants.

At those words it seemed Avery had gotten angry and he pulled out a switchblade, dangling it in front of her eyes.

"Fuck you." she growled, pulling back enough to spit in his face.

The next thing she felt was unbelievable pain as Avery sliced over the bridge of her nose and cheekbone, going as slowly as he could, seemingly trying to prolong her suffering.

Layla felt blood pouring down her face, and before she could even gather what just happened Avery picked her up and flung her at Mello's feet. Her side hit Mello's boot and she cried out in pain.

It seemed like this now sparked Mello into action and he leapt up from the chair, gun pointed directly at Avery.

"Give me the funding I want. Or I will blow your fucking head off." Mello said slowly.

Layla almost felt indignant, surprised that Mello hadn't even mentioned her face at all.

"I'd like to see you-" Avery started to say before the loud bang of the gun stopped him short.

Blood sprayed the wall behind him and Layla recoiled as he hit the ground, painfully aware that she was eye level with a dead man. The shock was enough to send her reeling into darkness.

"Give me funding." Mello snarled, pausing to point the gun at every single one of the men in the room. "I will kill you all if you don't. Get rid of this fucking trash."

He watched the men pick up Avery's body and file outside. One of them pulled a safe out into the room and began handing Mello wads of cash, which he counted lazily.

A pair of hands is what had essentially woken Layla up, their gentle tenderness reminded Layla of her mother.

"Come on Layla..." she heard Mello say, and she began to realize that it was Mello's hands touching her, gentle and not at all like the pain she'd received earlier.

He pulled her up into his arms and began walking back through the mafia hideout's main room into a large bathroom located towards the corner.

He set her on the counter and began to run hot water into the cracked bathtub, checking the temperature with the inside of his wrist.

Then, he turned back to Layla and slowly peeled her bra off her shoulders. He took care not to hit any of the bruises that were starting to form on her shoulder and side.

When Mello began to unbutton her pants she whimpered, not wanting him to touch her.

"Its alright." he said softly, stroking her cheek.

"How the fuck can you say that?" she snarled as he pulled off her pants, "How can you say that what you just let them do to me is alright?"

Mello began unlacing her boots, not saying much of anything. Once he had stripped her of all her clothing Mello picked her up again and placed her in the bathtub.

The hot water stung and she hissed. Mello allowed her a few moments to get used to the heat before gently pouring water from a cup over her back.

He washed her slowly, squeezing a soapy sponge over her body, then washing the soap away with the cup of water.

She tried not to allow herself to react, tried not to allow him to make her relax. She wanted so badly to be angry with him, to have the courage to stand up and say enough. To leave him.

But, when he cupped her face gently in his hands and began cleaning off all the dried blood from her face she knew she'd never leave.

Her weakness was enough to break her and she cried, weak hiccuping sobs as Mello held her against him over the edge of the tub. Her tears made the cut sting and she bit her lip. He rocked her back and forth against him and she cried at his gentleness.

She wanted to pretend she wasn't in a bathtub with pinkish bloody water, wanted to pretend Mello hadn't just used her body as a bargaining chip for money.

She wanted to pretend she didn't love him.

But, when he whispered an apology in her ear, she knew that love was deep in her heart, growing inside of her like a poison.


End file.
